


Shards

by grelleswife



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dadbastian, Fae & Fairies, Gen, Ice King Sebastian, Other, Platonic Relationships, fire spirit!Grelle, sad ice babey O!Ciel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 11:33:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25350043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grelleswife/pseuds/grelleswife
Summary: After his eye and heart were cursed by a splinter from the devil's mirror, Ciel Phantomhive was whisked away to the ice king's realm. Is he consigned to the chill of eternal loneliness, or can the boy pick up the shards of his lost life to begin anew?
Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis & Ciel Phantomhive, Sebastian Michaelis/Grell Sutcliff
Comments: 10
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This scenario is very loosely based on the ice king section from bonus manga chapter 101.5 ("The Butler, Requested"), and by extension Han Christian Andersen's "The Snow Queen."

Cold reigned supreme in the ice king’s domain. Winter dug its frigid claws into the earth, and icicles hung from the windowsills like frozen teardrops. The uncaring wind whistled mercilessly through the nooks and crannies in the grand palace’s walls. Attentive ears could catch a strain of the frost sprites’ songs, shimmering like the aurora borealis.

When he was mortal, and blood bright red as poppies warmed his heart, Ciel would have shivered. The dainty garb in which he was clad hardly provided defense against the chill. After his heart had been pierced by the devil’s mirror, the cold lost its bitter edge. Numbness settled over him like a silent, relentless snowfall that buried his hopes and passions in a blanket of impenetrable white. Without the promise of spring’s thaw, the seeds of what his life might have been if not for the curse would lie forever dormant.

His memories had fragmented like broken glass, cutting him when he tried in vain to piece together the whole. Only the particulars remained: Nestling between his parents in their bed when the night’s terrors proved too great; a golden-haired girl (had she been Lizzy? She might or might not) weeping and begging him to stay, face twisted in grief.

Ciel did not live here alone. He was dimly aware of the fae who reveled within the palace, and especially conscious of the strange, nameless king who had claimed him. Long, black nails like a beast's claws; skin pale as milk; ebon hair that fell about his face despite the branching crown that kept it in place; a lavish foxfur cloak and high-heeled boots; eyes redder than the dying sunset. Those were the boy’s disjointed impressions of the ice king.

Ciel stayed at his side, bound by the ancient magic that ran between them like an iron chain, but he feared him. The imperious, forbidding king seldom addressed anyone directly. When he held audiences with the denizens of this land, they quailed before their sovereign. The obeisance stemmed as much from intimidation as from courtesy to their monarch. With a snap of his fingers, the king could turn them into dust, or fill their minds with terrifying visions that would drive them mad, or far worse. The ballads sung at court described the king’s soul as blacker than the heart of midnight and the shadows of hell…and Ciel was inclined to believe them.

However, there was one person to whom he showed a measure of tenderness: The lady dressed in scarlet. She brought an elemental heat with her, and flames smoldered in her lustrous hair. There was a wild, foxlike prettiness to her. The king called her “Grelle,” or, when the fire spirit pressed lips that glowed like embers to his pallid mouth, “beloved.” At night, he took the lady by the hand and led her to his bedchambers, sternly admonishing Ciel to remain outside. Ciel didn’t understand what secrets took place behind the opaque ice door, but Grelle wouldn’t leave until late the next morning, exuding the contentment of a well-tended hearth fire. If Grelle’s eyes happened to fall on him, she’d smile at Ciel and bid him good day. Although her large, frightening teeth made his throat clog up in dread, a kind glint shone in her green eyes.

On occasion, the king would stare at Ciel like the boy was a riddle he couldn’t unravel. The fae seldom spoke to him, though, usually turning away to cup his chin in his hand with a pensive sigh.

Ciel had been whole before, in that time he barely remembered. The cursed shard that had blinded his eye and frozen his heart had left him splintered into a thousand pieces, like the devilish looking-glass. The garden of his soul was naught but a barren wasteland trapped in snow. It was lonesome here in the cold.

* * *

The king watched Ciel Phantomhive from a distance. The boy sat cross-legged in a corner of the great hall, playing with shards of ice. He kept trying to fit them into place like a mosaic, but the pieces wouldn’t lie neatly together. Instead, they stuck out at odd angles, which created a crooked, misshapen mess instead of a thing of beauty.

What was he supposed to _do_ with a human boy? The king had scores of servants at his beck and call, and this puny creature could hardly be put to use for menial tasks. Ciel barely ever spoke. When he did, his voice emerged in a cracked whisper, as if rusted from disuse. His eyes remained dull and lifeless as river stones, unmoved by the court’s glory, and he shrank away from the king when he ventured too close, though the monarch didn’t press the issue. Fae were much too subtle to boorishly force themselves on others. Still, why didn’t the child trust him, or at least show proper enthusiasm for his new abode? He had been granted an everlasting life, surrounded by winter’s splendor. Where was the gratitude?

The king spun on his heel, swirling his cloak about him. Maybe _she_ would have a suggestion…

“He’s unhappy,” the king explained to Grelle that night as he rested his head against her bosom, the clash of their opposing magics sending a frisson of delight through him.

She snorted. “You’re stating the obvious, darling. Even I could tell you that much.”

“But why?” He muttered in exasperation. “He wants for nothing. I had our tailors array him in garments that any mortal prince would envy.”

Grelle sighed and brushed a strand of hair from his face.

“Sometimes I wonder if you house anything other than snow crystals in that beautiful head of yours. How would _you_ feel if you were plucked from your home, tossed into a world where no one knew you or gave a fig for your existence, and told that you could never leave?”

The ice king flinched at the accusation that filled her voice. “I had…never considered it in that light…” he stammered haltingly.

“I’ve wandered many a year in the mortal world.” Unlike the king, who was content to sit on his glacial throne, Grelle was a restless flame who burned wherever her heart led her. “The winter fae’s young are like little snow flurries—careless, pretty things that dance upon the wind. Human children are different, my darling. They just want to be cared for by the people they love in the place they feel safest. Little Ciel doesn’t have any of that. He’s adrift in a strange land filled with strange faces. At present, he’s terrified of us…of you.”

“But how am I to change that?”

“Show him that he can trust you. Help make this place his _home_.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten thousand years later, I'm back with an update! I wanted to write a little something in honor of our boi's birthday, and I've been dying to return to this fic, so, well...here we are. I hope you enjoy!

The day following his conversation with Grelle, the ice king paid a visit to the palace library’s esteemed scholars.

“I need every treatise you have on mortal children. Their likes, their dislikes, their habits.”

Clever little Othello, a goblin far older and wiser than one would assume from his youthful appearance, was happy to help. He disappeared among the shelves, and returned bearing piles of dusty tomes and aged scrolls in his arms.

“Here ya go!” he grinned. Cheeky thing. However, few could match Othello’s depth and breadth of learning, or his mind sharp as a dagger; hence, the king tolerated displays of familiarity from this goblin that he would have soundly punished in a lesser fae.

After Othello deposited the documents at a solitary table, the ice king took a seat and began to read. He pored over the books for hours, barely moving a muscle even as the sun sank beneath the horizon for its nightly slumber, and the shadows crept across the floor like hungry cats quietly stalking their prey. At last he rose, thanked Othello for his assistance, and, with a flourish of his cloak, departed for his private chambers.

Despite being smashed into a thousand pieces and blown hither and yon by the wind, the devil’s enchanted mirror was bound to the ice king by a dark, primeval magic from before the dawn of time, when the fae were still nothing but a thought in the mind of their Maker. The seal on his left hand bore testament to those unbreakable ties, which were as much his birthright as the crown that graced his brow. Thus, the king could locate those cursed by the mirror whenever he pleased, even if they hid at the farthest ends of the earth. Ciel was close by, huddled beneath one of the palace’s many windows, and the fae strode towards him with determination. He’d devised a plan based on his reading to reach out to the boy…

* * *

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Ciel gazed up at the night sky, whose hues were slowly deepening from indigo to black. The stars that had been hidden in the bleak light of day were allowed to show their faces, and winked at him from their lofty perch. He shyly waved back.

He didn’t think these were the same stars he’d known at home—wherever “home” had been—and had no names to give to the constellations swirling above his head. But they appeared for him without fail each evening. Although Ciel had little to cling to in this beautiful yet forbidding realm, he could always count on the stars.

Then the click of an unmistakable pair of high-heeled boots reached his ears.

**_Tap_ ** _, tap, **tap** , tap_

He gasped and spun around, flinching backwards from the figure that approached. The snow king was tall, even compared to most other grownups, and he towered over Ciel like a sprawling oak tree looms above the acorns scattered at its roots. Ciel opened his mouth, but only a faint squeak emerged. While the fae had never hurt him or said so much as a harsh word, he typically held himself aloof rather than addressing Ciel directly. What did this sudden attention mean? The fae could be cruel on a whim; perhaps untold tortures awaited one who the mirror had marked.

In a swift, fluid motion, the king got down on his haunches, his raiment pooling about him. Those eyes gleamed blood-red as always, but their cold flame was tempered by something close to gentleness.

“Fear not, child. I merely wished to talk with you.”

However, Ciel’s voice had fled like a startled sparrow, and he froze in place as he blinked up at the monarch.

A crease appeared between the fae’s eyebrows. He looked almost…sad.

“Grelle was right,” he murmured, half to himself. “You _are_ terrified of me, aren’t you?”

Ciel couldn’t muster up the courage to say ‘yes,’ so he stared down at his feet instead. Bare, the skin a pale, frostbitten blue. Just one of many reminders that he wasn’t human anymore. Body and soul alike had been invaded by winter’s magic.

“I mean you no ill. Truly,” the king continued. “I only came to ask if you’d like to keep me company for a while, and play a game together.”

His voice reminded Ciel of the feather-light snowfall that drifted past his bedroom window; soft and serene. But could the boy trust him?

Ciel drew up his knees and hugged them to his chest. He kept his head bowed, his timorous gaze refusing to meet the king’s. His thin shoulders rose and feel as he took in a tremulous breath.

“What kind?” he asked hoarsely.

“One for cunning strategists. Apparently, it has much in common with mortal ‘chess,’” the fae replied. He spoke in the patient, steady tones of someone trying to coax a wild animal from its den.

Ciel’s head whipped up. “Chess?” he repeated. Hadn’t he…hadn’t he played _chess_ …before?

_The shaggy borzoi dozed by the fireplace while his father laid out a black-and-white board, carefully arranging the intricately-carved pieces. ‘Chess is all about strategy, Ciel, so I know you’ll be a natural,’ he smiled, hazel eyes crinkling at the corners_. _Father pressed a black game piece into his palm, tenderly curling Ciel’s fingers over it. ‘Here. This is your first king. My mother gave me this chess set when I wasn’t much older than you. God willing, you’ll pass it down to your own children someday.’_

“Are you well?”

The king’s catlike eyes had grown a trifle wider, and he stared worriedly at the boy, who had begun to shake.

“Father taught me how to play…and..a-and I think it was one of my favorite games,” he whispered. On the rare occasions when his memories resurfaced, they usually weren’t this _vivid_. This time, however, he could practically feel the chess piece in his hand, and hear their dog’s— _Sebastian’s_ , that was his name!—faint snores.

The fae quickly recovered his composure, and smiled.

“Excellent. In that case, I think you’ll like ‘chasing sapphire’ too, though it has its own idiosyncrasies.”

The king held out his hand, the one with an arcane symbol drawn in violet on the back. Ciel often wondered what it meant; it bore a striking resemblance to the sigil on his cursed eye.

“You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to, but I’d love to spar against a new partner. I’m afraid most of my servants lack the aptitude for the game,” the monarch said.

Ciel hesitated a moment longer. It was hard to say for certain whether the ice king’s intentions were sincere…but loneliness pierced the boy’s heart more deeply than that splinter of glass ever could. And the smile the king bestowed on him, a surprisingly warm one that reached his eyes, reminded Ciel of Father.

He rose to his feet, and gingerly placed his hand in the king’s.

“I’d like to learn.”

They walked together to the ice king’s suite, with the fae slowing his pace so that Ciel’s shorter legs could keep up. When they arrived at the sitting-room, the game had already been set up next to a roaring fireplace. Unlike the hearth from his memory, the flames burned cobalt blue, and cast no warmth. Ciel soon understood why this faerie game was called ‘chasing sapphire’: Instead of the black-and-white squares of a chessboard, the color scheme here was _blue_ and white—both board and pieces carved from glittering sapphires and diamonds.

Two comfortable armchairs sat facing each other on either side of the board. But Ciel wasn’t sure he was tall enough to reach—

Suddenly, the king scooped him up, gently setting him down in the chair on the left.

“There you go,” he chuckled. “The fae of my lineage are known for their height, and most of my furniture reflects that. I’ll try to find you a more suitable chair in the future.”

“That’s okay…and thank you,” Ciel said timidly. The snow king sat across from him and quickly explained the rules to chasing sapphire. He’d been right: It _was_ similar to chess, although in this version, you played by tracing symbols in the air and reciting different chants, which moved a select number of your pieces (within definite limits).

Ciel made a few fumbles during their first match, but soon recovered, quickly becoming engrossed in the game. However, he stiffened after witnessing one of the ice king’s moves, a clumsy tactical blunder that would put the boy at a clear advantage. An error that he _knew_ this fae was far too shrewd to make…

“Why'd you do that?” Ciel demanded indignantly.

The king blinked and sat back in his chair.

“What do you mean, child?”

“You ruined your formation on purpose, didn’t you?”

Anger hot as magma surged through him. Even when Ciel was little, Father had drawn no quarter in _their_ chess matches. Of that he was sure.

The normally imposing snow king ducked his head sheepishly.

“Since this is a rather advanced game for one so young…”

“That’s not the _point_! I—I know I’m small, not big and powerful like you, but I’m smart! And if I’m your opponent, then you should _respect_ me as an opponent!” Ciel cried, pounding his tiny fist against the chair.

Then he realized what he’d said.

To a faerie king.

_Oh no oh no oh no_

Ciel shrank back, and his heart lurched with dread. He'd be punished for that outburst…

But instead of smiting Ciel with his wrath, the fae cupped his chin in his hand, staring at Ciel like he was seeing him for the very first time.

“I misjudged you, child. My apologies. You speak rightly—one of the worst mistakes a leader can make is to underestimate their competition.”

He grinned, and his sharp teeth glinted in the firelight.

“Let us play properly.”

From there on out, the game grew much more difficult. Now that the ice king wasn’t holding back, Ciel found himself hard-pressed to defend his half of the board. Time and again, he lost. But each time, the fae showed Ciel where he’d gone wrong, as well as the techniques the king had used to gain the upper hand. Soon, Ciel sat on the edge of his seat, fighting with greater confidence and resolve. And in the last round, it was he who uttered the victor’s phrase, “I am strong as sapphire, unyielding as diamond.”

“Well done,” the king said warmly. “Not even the craftiest of my advisors has showed such skill.”

Ciel beamed proudly—and then yawned.

“Excuse me…” he stammered.

“Oh goodness. It’s your bedtime, isn’t it?” the snow king asked, looking guiltily at the clock on the mantlepiece.

Ciel nodded. Although the glass shard had conferred immortality and the winter faes’ gifts, he still had a human boy’s need for sleep.

“Normally you have frost sprites to attend to you, correct?”

“Yes, but they’re kind of…flighty,” the boy replied. While the creatures were useful enough, they never spoke with him, only talking amongst themselves in their peculiar language, and darted off the second they were done with their tasks.

“I see.” The same troubled look from earlier crossed the king’s face. “Would you object if I assumed those duties?”

First this person wanted to teach Ciel faerie chess. Now he was asking permission to tuck him in? The boy couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but he had to admit that the ice king seemed less intimidating than before. Kinder, too.

“All right,” he said at last.

To Ciel’s surprise, the king stood and carefully picked him up. He wasn’t a _baby_ , for God’s sake.

Yet it had been far too long since anyone held him like this. Close to their chest, in a way that made Ciel feel protected and safe. The lush foxfur from the king’s cloak brushed against his cheek, and his eyes fluttered shut in contentment. Instinctively, Ciel looped his arms around the fae’s neck.

* * *

It would appear the scholars were correct in their assertions concerning human children’s love of games, as well as their need for care and affection. Ciel had come alive during their match of chasing sapphire, heterochrome eyes gleaming with excitement. He’d spoken up for himself when the king, in an effort to make the game more accessible, inadvertently condescended to his intelligence. And when he finally won a round, he’d _smiled_ , sparkling brighter than the diamond playing pieces. The king wanted to make him smile like that again.

_He barely knows me, but he clings to me_ , the fae thought. Ciel felt alarmingly frail in his arms, as if the slightest breeze would crush his delicate frame. Remorse struck the king’s core like an iron spear.

_You poor thing…I should have intervened sooner_.

After taking Ciel to his room, which was only a short distance from the king’s, the fae helped him put on his nightshirt, brushed his hair, and put the boy to bed, pulling the blanket under his chin.

“Is there anything else you need?” the king asked.

“Could you stay with me until I fall asleep? It gets scary when I’m alone here in the dark,” Ciel whispered.

Ah, the books had mentioned that, too.

“Of course I can, child.”

The ice king sat on the mattress next to Ciel and tentatively patted his head. As the king continued to stroke his hair, the boy’s expression grew tranquil, and it wasn’t long before he was sound asleep.

Moving cautiously, so as not to rouse Ciel from his slumber, the king murmured archaic words to a spell in a language long dead. An orb of white light, glowing like pure crystal or a star in the heavens, materialized between his hands. He placed it on Ciel’s nightstand.

_If you wake to find me gone, you shall not be lost in darkness._

The ice king gazed at this sleeping boy who had been bound to him by an evil mirror and the vicious caprice of fate. He hadn't anticipated Ciel's arrival in his court, nor was he certain that the child's broken heart could be mended, but he would try to do right by him.

_You don’t have to be lonely anymore. I’m here for you now. I swear it._

**Author's Note:**

> Due to academic commitments and various other projects, it will probably be a while before I update this fic, but I do hope to return to it someday!


End file.
